Stitches and Kisses
by BadWolfBeauty
Summary: Oneshot, takes place during and after 8x21 The Great Escapist. What happened in the time between finding Cas and seeing him in the bunker the next morning? Destiel, fluffier than you'd expect. Mild language, nothing more that what the show allows. Follows canon if you let it.


The Impala screeched to a stop, the doors slammed and the incredulous cry, "Cas?" rang through the nighttime air.

"A little help here?" the angel replied dryly.

Dean swung his head around towards Sam, seeking guidance or an explanation, but his brother had none, and he looked at Cas with shock equal to Dean's. Rather than make a bad move, both men froze, staring at their wounded friend with wide eyes, if he was their friend. Last time they had seen him, he had betrayed them. As tempting as it was to forget about what happened, they could not simply ignore what Cas had done. Half of Dean wanted answers, his other half would rather jump back into the car and drive away as quickly as possible, to get far away and to never have to confront Cas.

But before he even realized it, he was running towards Cas like he had a wendigo on his tail. Seeing the angel's battered form had stirred a deep worry inside him, moving him emotionally in almost the same way that it felt to see Sam in his sickly state. It felt like he was watching Bobby get shot by Dick Roman, like Jo getting torn apart by hellhounds. All he heard was silence. Sam's cautionary shouts were drowned out by the swirling absence inside his ears and the thudding of his heart inside his throat, and all he could see was Cas, bloody, laying helplessly on the pavement.

"Hey. Hey! Cas!" he bellowed as the angel's eyelids drooped in exhaustion. "C'mon!" He shook him by the shoulders. Cas forced his eyes to focus, squinting up at Dean's face in the glare of the headlights. "You okay?" Dean asked.

"I'll be fine," he replied, propping himself up with a groan. "Eventually. I, um… could use a ride," he continued, raising his eyebrows hopefully.

Dean let out a nervous laugh as Cas pushed himself off the ground with much difficulty, limbs shaking from the exertion. The moment he stood, his knees proved to be too weak to hold him. He nearly collapsed; Dean was lucky to grasp his arm before he hit the ground.

"Here," offered Dean, swinging one of Cas's arms over his shoulder and firmly holding him against his side. The warmness of Cas's solid form gave him some comfort as Cas hung in his arms like a dead weight. Sam stood nearby with an unsure expression on his face. "I've got him, Sammy. Open the door," he said with a slight gesture of the head as he half-guided, half-dragged Cas towards the Impala.

"But Dean—"

"_Now,_ Sam."

As Dean helped Cas into the backseat, laying him down as well as he could, Sam asked quietly, "Are you sure about this, Dean?"

"What do you mean, 'Are you sure about this?' Have you _seen_ the guy? We can't just leave him here."

"Look," said Sam logically, "I want to help him too; I don't want to see him like this, but I don't know if we can trust him. I mean," Sam's voice dropped to a whisper, "last time he was with us, he tried to kill you. What makes you so sure that something like that won't happen again?"

"Hey, that wasn't him," Dean started to say angrily, but he caught himself and explained more calmly, "Truth is, Sammy, I don't really know. And no, I don't trust him, but – look at him, Sam! He can't even support his own weight. We don't have time to figure this out!"

Sam started to retort, but his face suddenly softened and turned sympathetic as he saw the reason in Dean's words. "You're right," he conceded, shaking his head slightly at himself. "He needs us right now."

"Thank you," Cas and Dean said simultaneously. "Let's go," continued Dean after glancing at the angel. "We gotta get him back to the bunker fast." With that, he began to join Cas in the back of the car.

"Whoa…wait, what are you doing?" asked Sam.

"Right," Dean said quickly, and tossed him the keys.

"Dean…I can't drive," he cried, fumbling the keys. Do you really want me behind the wheel right now?" he asked, holding up the dropped keyring as if to make a point.

Dean hesitated, once again giving a worried glance towards the backseat. "Fine. Then _you_," he said, pushing Sam into the back, "sit with him. Just… make sure the son of a bitch doesn't bleed out or anything, okay?"

He shut the door before Sam could protest and then climbed into the driver's seat, turning off the music as soon as it blasted through the speakers. He twisted around to make sure Sam and Cas were settled in the back before pushing the gear into drive and heading home at fifteen miles per hour over the speed limit.

After a silent moment to gather his thoughts, Dean asked, "Cas, man, what happened? Who the hell did this to you?" as he shot another glance towards his friend and brother.

"Crowley was responsible for my injuries, but it was Naomi who caught me."

"Son of a bitch," Dean growled. "What did he do?"

"He… There's something you should know."

"Yeah?"

"Crowley has a special gun… it can kill angels."

"Did – did he _shoot you?_" Dean cried indignantly, yet with wide-eyed concern.

"Yes, and… I'm sorry Dean. I'm so sorry. I never should have run away. I should've trusted you!" the sentence ended in a groan of pain.

"Hey! Cas, man, calm down! What happened?"

"Crowley has the angel tablet. I – I didn't hide it well enough."

Dean took a deep breath. "Okay. It's okay. We'll get it back. Right now, we just need to worry about getting you back to health. Sam, too."

"But, Cas," Sam said, "where did you hide it? And how did he find it?"

The angel sighed. "I thought – incorrectly, it seems – that the tablet released me from Naomi's control. I was afraid to let go of it."

"So what?" asked Sam. "You hid it in your coat?"

"No," he said slowly, as if Sam was stupid, "I hid it in my abdomen."

The Impala swerved as Dean's head swung around. "What, did you _eat it_ or something? Actually, no, don't answer that," he corrected hastily.

After a brief pause, Cas continued, "Anyways, I retrieved the bullet from my wound and I used it to kill the angel who was guarding me." He looked out the window ashamedly.

"You did what you had to do, Cas," Sam reassured.

"Yeah, let's just be glad that you're resourceful," Dean agreed.

"So, you escaped," started Sam, "but how did you end up lying on the road?"

"It would seem that my injuries have inhibited my flying accuracy and my overall strength." When neither brother had anything to say, Cas clarified, "I missed the backseat." There was a moment of stunned silence.

"You were trying to land here… in the Impala?" Sam asked incredulously. Dean remained silent, unsure of whether to be angry, hurt, or to feel pity for the wounded angel.

"I'm ashamed of what happened, but I've learned from my mistakes. I needed a safe place and I know now that you two are the only two people I can trust…including myself. I always think that I'm doing the right thing, but my judgment is warped," he explained, his voice becoming increasingly strained from pain and emotion. "Ever step I take is in the wrong direction and I – I cause so much death, so much disaster wherever I go –"

"We know you tried, Cas," Sam reassured, cutting off his distraught rant. "You did everything you could."

"Yeah, you messed up, but that's not important. Not now," said Dean. "You're where you belong now, with me and Sam, and we need you just as much as you need us."

The car was silent for a few minutes, save for Dean cursing under his breath as he had to slow for cop cars and oily puddles, and Cas's labored breathing which was becoming more ragged all the time. Suddenly, there was a muffled grunt in the back. It was followed by a slightly louder groan of pain.

"Cas? Hey, what's going on back there?" Dean demanded, trying to spot the backseat passengers in the rearview mirror without having to slow down.

"You mean aside from the guy having a gaping hole in his stomach?" asked Sam sarcastically. "He's hurt, Dean. He's in pain."

"Yeah, but I don't want him getting any worse."

"I am actually healing quite effectively," Cas informed them. "Crowley and the tablet… messed up my insides, for the lack of a better term. My organs are rearranging themselves."

"Great. That's just fantastic. You still bleeding, too?"

"Yes," he said with a grimace. "But I'll be fine," he said quickly, trying to turn his mouth into a smile as Dean stole another glance. The change in expression only made him look more pained, and Dean responded by speeding up.

Fifteen minutes later, they were nearly pulling into the bunker and Cas was worse than before, drifting in and out of consciousness. While awake, his groans of pain were restrained, but as he slipped into unconsciousness, they became wails.

The car screeched to a halt. Sam removed himself from the backseat as Dean slammed his door. He ran around to Cas and shook him gently by the shoulders, feeling guilty as the movement elicited another cry.

"Hey, Cas, wake up, buddy. We're here. We're gonna make you better now."

"Dean," he gasped as he woke with a start, pale and panicked.

"It's okay! It's okay Cas, we've got you," assured Sam as the angel blanched at the sight of the blood covering his upper body and grew even more white. The angel seemed to remember everything in a sudden rush, but he still looked thoroughly stressed out and shaken.

"Can you walk?" asked Dean after pulling him into a sitting position, hand still on his shoulder.

"I – I think so," he huffed breathily, but even with Dean supporting most of his weight, he slumped over, passing out once more.

"Damnit! Cas!" Sam approached to help, but Dean put out a hand to stop him. "I've got this, Sam. Just get a first aid kit ready for us. And leave the door open!" he called as Sam nodded and headed inside.

Dean slid an arm under Cas's knees and another around his back, lifting him with ease. "Wow, Cas, you're a lot lighter than you look," he commented, although the angel could not hear him. "No offense," he added.

Sam looked up from the bandages that he was organizing. "Here comes the bride," he commented sarcastically upon seeing Dean carrying Cas bridal-style.

"Shut up," said Dean, ignoring the quip. "Just – get that into my room, okay?" Cas stirred restlessly in his arms and let out a small whimper.

"_Your_ room?"

"Well, I'm not going to put the poor bastard on the couch, and I'm not going to put you on the couch either. He's hurt and you're sick."

"Dean…" Sam started, unsure of himself.

"What?"

"Are you… okay? I know this is a lot to deal with."

Dean turned around after laying Cas on the mattress. "Am I okay? Not really. He abandoned us. He hurt us. He couldn't even _trust_ us. And really, Sam, I'm less sure about having him here than you are. But damnit, I can't help but take care of him. He needs us. And he's… he's…"

"He's Cas. I get it, I really do. But Dean, what are you going to say to him? When is Cas deemed 'well enough' to get pissed at?"

"I don't know, Sam. Just let it happen when it happens." Sam gave him a skeptical look. "It'll be fine," he said defensively. "Just get some sleep, okay?"

"You don't want help?"

"Not really," said Dean. "Listen, I need some time to think things over."

"Okay, but make sure to call if you need me."

"Will do," he replied as he set aside a bottle and began to thread a surgical needle.

"We'll talk about this again?" he said from the doorway.

"Sure," Dean dismissed, focusing more on the first aid supplies than his younger brother. "Hey, Cas, wake-y, wake-y." Cas groaned and opened his eyes.

"Dean," he blinked groggily.

"Hey, I'm gonna fix you up now." Cas eyes the needle distastefully. Nonetheless, he removed his tie and fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. Dean undid the ones near his chin that he couldn't quite see as Cas undid the button on his pants and unzipped them slightly. He took a deep breath. "Let's see what the damage is." He removed the shirt.

"How bad is it?" asked Cas, falling onto his back with a gasp and staring at the ceiling.

"Looks worse that it is," Dean informed him truthfully. "Lots of blood," he said frankly, "but I'll be able to patch you up." Cas breathed a sigh of relief as Dean's fingers trailed over his bloody midriff, examining the injury. The skin was covered in sticky blood and his entire belly enormously distended, but the opening itself looked easy enough to stitch up, if he could just ignore the grotesque movement of lumps under the surface of Cas's inflamed skin, shapes that he knew were his organs.

Dean began to clean the wound. "This'll sting," he warned, but Cas did not seem to be any more bothered as he began to dab at his skin with a cotton ball. However, when Dean turned away, he curled up on his side and let out a cry.

"Whoa! What did I do? Cas!" he said as the angel squirmed in discomfort. "C'mon, I even used the real stuff instead of whiskey!"

Cas gasped as he lay flat again on the bed. He turned his head towards a worried Dean. "It wasn't you. Those were my intestines untangling themselves. Wait a moment," he ordered, and he hovered his hands over his abdomen while staring blankly. "Everything is back in place," he informed as his eyes snapped Dean into focus once more.

"Really?" he asked doubtfully, eyeing the angel's midsection. "It's just… You've still got…"

"Oh," said Cas, looking down, noting for the first time that he sported a slightly tablet-shaped bulge. His stomach was no longer a strange, lumpy shape, but it was still immense, at least in comparison to Cas's normally slender frame. It ballooned outwards cartoonishly, mostly round with the slightest suggestion of corners protruding from its bulbous shape. If Dean wasn't so concerned, he would have joked that Cas should lay off the burgers, or that he really needed to buy some maternity clothes. "My body had adapted to the tablet to accommodate it, and Crowley's actions have not helped," he said, running his hands over the sizable swell of his belly. "It will take some time, but I will return to normal without any problem."

"So I can stitch you up?" The angel nodded his consent.

Dean was surprisingly gentle and precise as he fixed the damaged flesh and Cas watched him work, either entranced by the movements of the needle, or concerned for his well-being; Dean couldn't tell.

"So, have you even had a chance to rest since you started running from the queen bitch?"

"Not really. I did have a moment to finish half a coffee."

"Well, look at you: living in the lap of luxury."

Cas looked confused. "No… not really. I was – Oh. You were joking."

"So you just traveled from place to place for weeks, huh? All alone."

"It was very lonely," he admitted, studying Dean's face.

After a moment, Dean blurted angrily, "Did you even think about me? Didn't you know I would have helped you in any way I could?" though the needle remained steady. "Sam and I didn't know what to think; you left us without any explanation!"

"I thought about you and Sam all the time," Cas insisted. "Especially you, Dean. I cannot tell you how much guilt has been weighing on me ever since the incident. How I hurt you, almost killed you, and was barely able to apologize for my actions. I know that no amount of 'sorry' can fix everything I've done." Cas sighed and Dean discarded the needle, eyes suddenly conveying conflicted feelings and a lot of sadness. "But what else can I do?" he asked simply, lifting his head to look at Dean. "I'm sorry, Dean. I'm so sorry."

"I'm sorry, too."

Cas's eyebrows scrunched together. "For what?"

"Man, I let this happen. I knew something was up, that someone was hurting you, or threatening you… I knew something was wrong. But I never did anything about it. That was a big mistake. I let Naomi hurt you again and again when I should have hunted down and ganked that bitch before any of this happened."

"You had no way of knowing, Dean…" Cas protested, looking extremely uncomfortable.

"Well, I should have… Cas?" The angel was hunched over.

"Oh no," he murmured.

"Cas, what is it now? What the hell?" he cried as his hand made contact with Cas's arm. It was burning hot.

"I suspected it hours ago, but I wasn't sure until now. I have demon blood in my wound."

"And you neglected to tell me until now? How did this happen?" demanded Dean.

"Crowley must have coated the bullet with it."

"Why the hell would he do that?"

"Probably for fun? This will be extremely painful for me, Dean."

"Okay, but why are you burning up? You're not going to die on me, are you?"

"My body needs to eliminate the demon blood in my system by overheating, much the same as you would fight off illness with a fever. And no, it won't kill me, quite the opposite, in fact. But it will hurt. It will also be uncomfortably hot in here due to the heat that my body will create, so I advise that you leave," he grunted as he doubled over.

"Leave you? No way, not like this."

"Dean, this may take hours. It may take minutes, but I have no way of knowing. It all depends – AH!" his eyes scrunched shut and he clutched his stomach, but he continued, "It all depends on how far the blood has spread through my system," he finished, looking up.

"I'm not leaving," Dean restated, gently pushing him back into a laying position. "Just tell me what to do so I can help. Cold water, ice–?"

"No, those will only hinder the process. My temperature needs to rise as high as possible in order to cleanse my body," he said, breathing heavily.

Dean could already feel the room getting hot, but he swore to himself that no matter how uncomfortable it got, he would stay with Cas until the whole ordeal was over. The angel was flushed and beaded with sweat. He looked feeble and exhausted and it was just wrong to leave him all by himself.

Like before, Cas attempted to contain any displays of pain, but this time it took only a few minutes until he was freely crying.

"Hey, it's okay. I'm here," Dean murmured, dabbing sweat and tears off Cas's pallid face. He wanted to do so much more, anything but just sit there. But there was nothing he could do. He was useless as Cas went through tremendous pain.

Dean himself was beginning to sweat, so he stripped down to just his t-shirt and jeans. Cas, however, was practically drenched at this point. Dean was tempted to offer some relief by rolling up Cas's pant legs, or plugging in a fan, but he also knew that it would only slow the process and cause Cas pain even longer.

He hoped it wouldn't get any worse. Cas was wailing nonstop now and looking weaker than Dean had ever seen him. He trusted Cas when he said he could not be killed, but it didn't stop his worry.

"I'd do anything to help you right now, you know that, right?"

Cas nodded through his tears. Dean could not tell if he gripped his hand as a response or as a way to deal with the pain.

"If I could go through this myself for you I would."

"No," Cas choked. "This is – penance."

"No. No, it's not, Cas. You don't deserve this. Nothing you could do would make you deserve this."

"Nothing? I've betrayed you, Dean. I've hurt Sam."

"Yeah, and you've also saved our asses more times than I can count," he chuckled before immediately sobering at another cry of pain. "Look man, I can't say I'm not mad and upset. I am. But you mean so much more that you realize, okay?" He discarded the soaked rag he was holding and rested his free hand on Cas's distended stomach. Cas's entire body jerked at the touch and Dean snatched his hand away, mumbling his apologies.

To his surprise, Cas reached out and grasped his hand, placing it back on the red, swollen flesh of the wound. The injured angel groaned at the contact.

"Cas?" the hunter asked unsurely.

"I'm sorry, it's just – the coolness of your hand…"

"Does it help?" he asked, moving both hands so they rested on either side of the square-ish bump.

"_Yes,_" he grunted, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"But you said yourself, won't it make the process slower?"

"Don't – don't care."

Dean wanted to argue, but he didn't think he could stand to see Cas in any more pain. Instead, he splayed his fingers to cover as much of Cas's bulging abdomen as he could. Cas grabbed his hands and pushed them more firmly into his taut skin. Dean's breath caught in his throat.

Despite the supposed relief, Cas was now full on screaming. Each tortured cry gave Dean's heart a painful squeeze. "What can I do, Cas? Please tell me there's something I can do for you."

"You are," he gasped.

"There's gotta be something more. Can I—?"

"Distract me. Please."

"How?"

"Talk to me. Tell me about this place."

"Um, okay." Dean nervously ran a hand through his hair, and was surprised at how urgently Cas snatched it back to lay it on his enlarged belly once more. "It's, uh, it's nice. I mean, we finally have a place to keep our stuff. And sleep when we're not we're not working a case. Baby's great, but she's better as a car than as a bed. And dude, we have a kitchen!" he bragged enthusiastically. "Man, the last time I had a real kitchen, I must have been five years old or something," he claimed, shaking his head.

"It sounds great," Cas commented, deciding it was better not to bring up the time Dean had spent with Ben and Lisa.

"It is. We have weapons, and weird technology, and we even have a freakin' dungeon. And don't even talk to Sam about our library. He will geek out for hours."

"So Sam likes it here, too."

"He's warming up to it. I don't think he appreciates it the same as I do. There's a level of nostalgia that Sammy just can't feel, you know?"

"No."

"Well – jeez, you're soaked." Dean moved to get another rag to wipe Cas's face, but the angel grabbed his wrist.

"Please. Don't leave me."

Dean furrowed his brow. "Okay." Instead, he peeled his t-shirt off his back and used it to mop up the sweat from Cas's face and chest.

"Explain how Sam doesn't appreciate it as much as you."

"Well, no, I didn't mean it like that. He just appreciates it differently. It's just… I remember what it's like. Having someplace to go back to after being on the road. Sammy's never gotten to have that, but I remember. And sometimes it feels a little bit like having a home."

"But not yet?"

"Nah, I don't know. Sometimes I feel it, and sometimes I just know something's missing."

"Like – oh, God," he wailed, "like what?" he asked, catching his breath painfully. Dean threw the t-shirt aside and spread his fingers over the angel's searing hot belly once more.

"I don't know. Sometimes it's just too big. Too lonely. And sometimes I just want…" Dean trailed off hesitantly.

"Want what?"

"Nothing… Cas?"

"What?" he panted.

"Maybe you could come live here from now on. With us," he said gruffly.

The angel looked surprised. "Really?"

"No," Dean scoffed. "I mean, you don't have to," he backtracked. "It was just a stupid thought, I mean, why would you even want to—?"

"Okay."

"O—okay? You really want to stay here? With me – us?" he corrected.

"Yes," he breathed.

"Okay, well… good." He smiled for a split second before creasing his brow. "Cas?" he asked, rubbing the angel's bulging abdomen. Cas's voice was now hoarse and he seemed to be on the verge of passing out.

"Dean," he groaned, arching his back and pressing his ample belly into the hunter's hands.

"Hey. You okay?"

"No," the angel said frankly. "Dean, it's getting worse."

"Okay, okay," the hunter stammered, trying not to panic. "Come here." Dean sat at the head of the bed and leaned back against the wall. Cas tilted his head back and looked at him inquisitively before heaving himself into a sitting position and scooting back into Dean's open arms. The hunger pulled the angel onto his lap and the angel responded by dropping his head into the crook of Dean's neck and shoulder. Dean watched the closed door, hoping that he locked it and that Sam wouldn't come to check on them and see them in this compromising position.

He sat stiffly at first, but eventually let Cas's body press against his cool skin, and he allowed Cas's hands to desperately grasp the legs of his jeans as another screech erupted from his throat. Cas's flesh seared against his own, but he bit his tongue and reminded himself that what Cas was going through was a billion times worse than the scalding heat that he currently felt. Cas moaned, and Dean was inclined to believe that it was actually an expression of pleasure as his clenched muscles relaxed ever so slightly and his face smoothed out from its crinkled appearance. Hesitantly, the hunter wrapped his arms around his friend, holding the massive bulge of his belly in both his open palms. The angel sobbed in pain, but once again arched his back to press his ballooning abdomen against Dean's calloused hands, hands that now caringly massaged – no, caressed – the formidable swell. The hunter's thumbs made firm circles on Cas's protuberant midsection and the angel's instinctual response was to buck his hips upwards and press his own hands into Dean's. Both the hunter and the angel felt shame at the unintentionally sexual action in the back of their minds, but Dean was more concerned with comforting Cas, and Cas was facing a confusing range of emotions and sensations including unbearable pain, anger, and fear, but also a sudden, unexpected rush of affection towards Dean. Dean continued to murmur into his ear. "Hey, it's okay. You're okay. I'm here. I'm never gonna make you deal with crap like this on your own, got it? It's okay, I'd never leave you…"

After some time this way, Dean noticed that Cas's sobs had diminished to gentle crying and that his hands were now gently resting on Cas's rounded belly. The angel's skin was warm, but no more than that. "Hey, Cas. It's over now, right?" Cas took a gulping breath and nodded. "Okay." He gently turned him around and rested his flushed face on his shoulder. Cas loosely wrapped his arms around his frame and curled his legs under him.

"I—I'm sorry, Dean." He ashamedly tried to brush away his tears.

For a moment, Dean looked as if he might say something, but instead, he pulled Cas firmly against his chest and held him tightly. He planted kisses into his messy dark hair as Cas's shoulders heaved with the last of his crying.

"I'm sorry. Dean, I'm sorry."

"Cas." The apologies stopped. Dean took a deep breath and confessed, "You're what was missing. You're what I need to make this feel like home." At that statement, Cas gripped him even more tightly. "So please, don't scare me like that again. Ever." He drew away to study his face. "How are you doing?"

"Better. I hardly feel any pain. But I am feeling sleepy, disoriented… I'm feeling very confused. I'm not sure how much of this I will remember tomorrow."

"That might be for the better," Dean chuckled.

"Maybe," said Cas, "but not all of it was bad," he claimed, staring intensely into Dean's eyes.

Dean swallowed. He almost laughed again, almost made some dumb joke about chick flick moments, but just then, Cas placed a grateful hand on his knee, and he saw everything a little bit differently. He drew his breath in sharply at the contact, and before he could stop himself, he impulsively bent forwards, grasping Cas's short hair and uniting their lips in a needy kiss. Cas's hand moved upwards to caress his jaw and he found his own hand doing the same, cupping Cas's prickly, stubbly cheek in his rough palm as tilted his head and pressed his mouth against Cas's in an even deeper embrace. Then, just as suddenly as the kiss had started, he pulled away, gasping for air like a fish out of water.

"Dean?"

"Oh, God," he breathed crinkling his brow and reluctantly pulling his eyes up to Cas's, not expecting the reassuring yet shocked stare he received in return. "That was… okay?"

This time it was Cas who pulled Dean in for a sweet and gentle kiss. "I'm gonna take that as a 'yes,'" he said, blinking into space as they parted for a second time. He looked at Cas, whose eyelids were now drooping, and he granted him with a sad smile. At this Cas's eyes widened, but they closed just a moment later.

"Dean, please," he slurred, trying to stay awake as Dean moved off the bed and helped him out of his shoes. "Please."

"Shh…" he stretched his angel out on the mattress.

"I can't forget," he cried desperately even though his eyes remained shut. "Please promise you'll tell me what happened if I don't remember tomorrow. Dean?"

"Sure," he lied.

"Dean," Cas insisted with more urgency. "Please!"

"I will," he insisted sadly.

Cas was silent, and for a moment he thought he was asleep until his angel murmured, "Dean. I love you."

Dean looked at him with damp eyes. He stroked his angel's hair gently. "I… I love…" He couldn't finish the sentence. He shook his head one time and whispered, "Me too, Cas," before placing a kiss on his forehead. He gave one more dark look into the room before turning out the light and walking away.

* * *

Dean stopped in the doorway of his room, just in time to see Cas rise with a yawn.

"Dean?" asked Cas. Dean's breath hitched in his throat as his angel blinked confusedly. "I… I seem to be better although not fully healed," he said, looking down at his abdomen. He still sported a slight bump, but the skin was no longer red and inflamed, and Dean could see the definition of Cas's ribs and muscles. "Last night…" the angel continues. "Dean, I know something happened, but I can't remember." The hunter's stomach dropped.

"Nothing, Cas. We found you, we stitched you, and you slept. That's it." He hung his head bitterly.

"But Dean…"

The hunter abruptly turned away, neglecting to respond. As he walked down the hall, each step jolting his heart painfully, he hoped that the angel hadn't caught sight of the tear that rolled down his cheek. He hoped the angel would never ask what he was too cowardly to tell.


End file.
